The Battered Heiress Blues (6 page)

The house was quiet. The last of the guests had finally made their way to the airport. Everyone had felt so damn sorry for me. Truth be told, they would have left after the final prayer if etiquette had not contradicted their departure. Most were hoping for an
Amen, good to see ya, sorry for your loss, and goodbye
. Their discomfort began to wear on my nerves. I wasn’t feeling particularly kind. If I had not been so sad, I would have made it a point to talk to each of them as long as I could tolerate, in hopes of prolonging their agony. Broken glass for everyone- stomach it and run. Misery demanded company. Unwilling to participate in my descent to hell, the captives were eventually freed, practically causing a stampede exiting the house once my father disappeared. The only remaining hostages were my brother and Henry.

Henry placed his cell phone back in his pants pocket and walked toward me. “What was that about?” questioning John’s earlier retreat.

“Just saying goodbye- like you wanted.”

“I have to get him on the plane, but I’ll come back…if you want me to…”

“Really?”

“Of course. Give me a few hours.” He looked around before leaning down to kiss my forehead.

Tommy returned with a plate of food and placed it on the table between our rockers. “Are you leaving Henry?” His attention quickly turned to me. “Eat,” he instructed.

“Your sister doesn’t need me hanging around.” Shamefully, Henry was lying to a priest.

“When will we see you again?”

“Definitely Easter. I’ll come hear you say Mass. Kate will be sorry to have missed you.”

“Your sister? How is she?”

“She’s flying here from London tomorrow afternoon on holiday to make mischief with Jewels.”

“Good. She needs the company.”

Henry shook his head in agreement with my brother’s assessment.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

Tommy smiled. “I could always put off leaving until Kate turns up.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m exhausted. I’ll probably sleep straight through until her arrival. The caterers have stocked enough food to survive a famine. Really, I appreciate the offer, but I need some alone time- some quiet. Please. Feel free to irritate me with phone calls, okay?”

“Can I drop you at the airport, Tommy?” Henry seemed in a hurry to falsify his departure.

“Yeah. Let me grab my bag.” My brother wandered into the house.

Henry knelt down and ran his hands through my hair before they rested on both cheeks. “You’ve been very brave today around these strangers. I don’t buy any of it. You don’t have to be so strong all the time.” He leaned his forehead against mine before standing up in anticipation of seeing Tommy.

From the other room I could hear him. “I’ve left my number at the parish by the phone in the kitchen.” Within seconds he was lifting me out of the rocker and squeezing me. I held him just as tightly.

“Thank you so much for today- for Connor. I love you, Tommy. I’m sorry if I was harsh.”

“Don’t think of it again. I love you too. I’ll try to give you some space, but check in with me from time to time so I don’t worry. Will you do that?”

I broke his hold and gave him an obedient smile. “I promise.” He threw me a skeptical look which I passed on to Henry. “Seriously, some of us can’t lie to a priest.”

He smiled and then they were gone. I was alone for the first time in weeks with nothing to do. The staff had cleaned the house and everything was back in its place.

3

I
walked a lap through the downstairs trying to find a task for my hands, before stopping at the front door. Feeling compelled to open it; I reached for the knob, knowing what lay on the other side of the ornately carved wood. Slowly, turning the knob and pulling the door back, I could see the chapel in the distance and imagine his grave. My mind immediately posted a picture of the coffin in the ground and my son covered in dirt. I wanted to run to him, to dig him out with my bare hands, but my feet wouldn’t allow me to clear the threshold. I couldn’t do it alone.

Leaving the door ajar, I stepped out of my black heels, and started making a path through the drawing room, into the dining room, then the kitchen, family room, study, library, and living room. There was the door again. Another lap. The door again. Another lap. The door again. I became obsessive about my new occupation. Eventually, I no longer stopped and looked out toward the chapel cemetery. Finally growing tired of the route, I began to count seams in the hardwood floors. Counting still made me feel calm and in control.

Mental exhaustion finally took its toll and I withdrew to that same chair in the drawing room, sitting and fidgeting with my dress, straightening out the creases over and over again. The wind blowing hard against the house as the sun disappeared rattled the old windows. A storm was brewing. Lightning lit the dark room. My hand nervously twirled a loose curl that had fallen across my face as I rocked back and forth, trying to self soothe.

A car’s headlights danced across the drawing room wall. The motor stopped and a door slammed shut. Within minutes, the figure of a man paused in the open doorway. Henry was back.

“Jewels. Where are you, love? Why is the door open?”

He made a reverse lap, hollering my name, as he proceeded through each room, turning on lights. I wanted to answer him, but I couldn’t. I just kept straightening my dress and twirling my hair.

The bright light of the chandelier had no effect on me. Henry had a look of panic in his eyes. He knelt down and released my hand from its curling motion as I continued to rock.

“Why didn’t you answer me? How long have you been here?”

I couldn’t respond.

“Jewels, have you been here all afternoon?”

I wanted to ease his mind.

“It’s okay. It’s been a long day. You just need some sleep.”

I felt Henry embrace me and my rocking. We moved in unison as one hand held my back and the other was cupped around the back of my head. He was in over his head.

Henry mumbled, not realizing that somewhere deep within me, I was in touch with this experience. “Holy shit Jewels…one of us needs medication.”

I heard that.

“We need to get you to bed. Grab hold of me.”

Forcing my arms around his neck, he lifted me off the chair. Walking to the open door, he kicked it closed before we climbed the staircase to the bedroom.

Once inside, Henry placed me on the bed and unbuttoned my black dress, pulling the sleeves down off my arms and revealing my black slip. Pivoting my body, he slowly laid me back against the pillows, removed my dress, and pulled the comforter over me. Sitting down on the other side of the bed, he took off his watch and dropped his shoes to the floor. He leaned over to kiss me goodnight; his hand pulling the covers up to tuck me in before it gently slid away. I couldn’t bear to be alone. Grabbing his hand, I tucked it under my breast. I wouldn’t let go.

“I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere. Sleep. I’m here. You’re safe.” He leaned down and kissed the side of my face- his body coupled to my every curve. I closed my eyes. I was safe. I could feel my mind go blank as I drifted off

Thunder broke my sleep and I awoke to find my slip drenched in sweat. I couldn’t recall my dreams, but I doubt that they differed from reality. Henry’s hand was heavy on my chest. I turned my head ever so slightly to determine if he was asleep. Thankfully, he was. I wanted to get up and find a dry set of clothes, but I didn’t want to disturb him. Instead, I lay there, in wet clothes, counting the evolutions of the ceiling fan that hung above the bed.

After a period of time passed, anxiety set in. I peeled his hand off my breast and slid it down to his side, waiting to see if he would move. He simply made a noise and turned over, giving me the escape I needed. I was almost free.

Quietly, I opened the door that led out onto the upper veranda. The night sky was a mix of thunder, lightning, and a fine mist of rain. A lightning strike lit the yard and my eyes were once again drawn to the chapel.

The scared feelings that gave me cement shoes before now gave me wings. I yearned to be with Connor. I darted past the bed and down the stairs to the front door, stumbling over a death lily and knocking a book from the foyer table to the floor. I waited, crouched down, listening for footsteps from above. The house remained quiet except for the low rumblings of thunder. I fumbled for the light switch and flipped it on, but nothing happened.

Setting out across the soggy lawn, I sprinted toward the cemetery, as the rain began falling more heavily. I paused, scanning the sacred space for his headstone. The heavy gate slammed shut behind me. Mountains of floral arrangements covered his grave. Descending to my knees, the lighting illuminated his name:
Connor Truman Spencer, beloved son, June 15, 2008
. Meticulously clearing the flowers, I drove my hands into the dirt, clutching the earth that held him down below. The soil ran down my arms and onto my slip.

All I could do was lay on top of him in a move of protection from the elements. The cold rain pelted my back, but my mind was occupied, playing images of times I would never know: first words; first steps; first day of school; and his first game. In that moment, I was privy to all of them. I was happy. The comfort was quickly replaced by rage. Rising to my knees, I screamed out in anguish to a God that had deserted me.

“How dare you take him from me? He was mine. You had no right. Where were you? Why didn’t you help us? I hate you. Do you hear me? I hate you.” My anger was cathartic- it felt good. I threw floral arrangements and rocks at the statue of Christ as I yelled my blasphemies. With one last scream, I fell back to my knees on the loose soil.

I suddenly became keenly aware that I wasn’t alone. A hand lightly touched my shoulder. I must have awoken Henry.

Looking back, I found a strange man staring at me. The rain was beating against his hooded jacket, partially obscuring my view of his face. I should have been afraid, but I wasn’t. I cared little about what happened to me.

“Are you okay, Mam? I heard you screaming.”

“Jewels. Jewels…” Sounds of yelling demanded my attention from the direction of the house. I turned myself toward the gate and then back to the stranger, but he was gone. I looked around the cemetery, but he had disappeared.

The gate slammed shut and Henry was beside me, pulling me to my feet. Grasping my arms, he gave me the once over to determine if I was injured. He pulled me tightly to his chest, smothering my breath.

“You could have been killed out here. What are you doing?”

“I’m angry.” I held him crying. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m angry too.” He made it a point to pull me back so that I could see the sincerity in his eyes. “But maybe we can be angry inside the house…away from this lightning, huh? Can we go? Let’s go.”

Henry held my hand as we made our way back to the house. My eyes searched the grounds for the stranger as we trudged back. He was nowhere in sight. Henry flipped the light switch and discovered that the power was out.

“I’ll get some candles. Wait here.” He pointed to the very spot I was standing and repeated his command loud and slowly, as if I were impaired in some way. “Wait right here.”

“I’m sad. I’m not deaf.”

He returned with a towel. “You need a hot shower. You’re freezing. Up you go.”

Climbing the stairs felt like the walk of shame. He was the guard. I was his crazy prisoner who got caught sneaking off.

I sat on the side of the tub as he lit candles and started the shower. He turned to me and lifted my arms above my head, pulling off the wet slip that clung to my body.

He knelt down in front of me pulling my panties to the floor. There was no embarrassment. We had a physical history together. I didn’t have the mental capacity to feel vulnerable about my nakedness.

“Tru, I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“You think? You’re starting to scare me, Jewels. I don’t know how to help you. God knows that I’m doing a piss poor job. A tragic thing happened to you, to be sure, but you’ve got to get a grip. You can’t put yourself in harm’s way like this. You’re too important to me.”

I took his face in my hands. “How do I get a grip? Tell me and I’ll do it.” I was desperate for the one answer that would heal this hurt.